


Your eyes could drown a city

by Proserpineceres



Series: E Mare Libertas [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, M/M, The Legend of Ys, i need viktor's tears to live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-14 01:06:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11197251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Proserpineceres/pseuds/Proserpineceres
Summary: “Ocean, beautiful, selfish Ocean, wrap me up in foam, I am your betrothed. You who returns to the earth only the boats and the men you want to give back, give me the gold of the sumptuous sinking vessels, give me their treasures, bring in my town handsome sailors that I shall gaze upon. But, oh, don’t be jealous, I’ll give them back to you, one after the other.”





	Your eyes could drown a city

One day the Prince asked the King for a city of his own, one that would be close to the sea- where seagulls would greet him every morning. The King Yakov was a wise man and knew the vanity of his son but loved him all the same and hoped that the responsibilities that came with ruling over a city could ease his reckless tendencies and teach him a sense of duty. 

A few years was all it took for thousands of workers to erect a magnificent town off the coast of his father’s kingdom. It seemed like it was born from the ocean itself. To defend it from its traitorous father, the ocean, a seawall was constructed to protect the inhabitants from storms and waves. Only a gate made of bronze could allow one to enter the majestic town and only the Prince had the ability to open it with a small golden key. It could always be seen hanging around his neck like a well-guarded medal. 

The town was called Ys and was so beautiful only fools would dare to compare it to another. Timber framed houses were surrounded by colorful flowers all year long, and as gifted by the spirits of the nature, the castle overlooking the rest of the town was covered by climbing roses, as blue as the eyes of their Prince- never withering, no matter the season.

 

Early in the morning, as Ys was barely waking up, fishers would always see the Prince Viktor on the shore, beyond the walls of the city. He would be caught brushing his long hair. His silver locks even paler than the sand he’d lay on. 

He loved to sing to the ocean, and he could be heard each passing day, while playing joyfully with his dog among the waves:

_“Ocean, beautiful, lovely Ocean, wrap me up in foam, I am your betrothed, I am born on the sea, I flourish in the waves, in the sand. As a kid I loved to play with you, do you remember me?”_

With the sun not even high enough in the sky to be seen over the water, the birds in the surrounding areas would already be singing, calling the sailors towards the horizon. One by one they would join their ships as the first rays of the sun bathed the sky in a soft pink light. The waters were calm as if the wind was still hoping to sleep for a few more minutes.

_“Ocean, beautiful, selfish Ocean, wrap me up in foam, I am your betrothed. You who returns to the earth only the boats and the men you want to give back, give me the gold of the sumptuous sinking vessels, give me their treasures, bring in my town handsome sailors that I shall gaze upon._

_But, oh, don’t be jealous, I’ll give them back to you, one after the other.”_

The surface of the water was twinkling, kissing the light the day was sending to the waves. The ocean was losing the warm colors of dawn to turn blue, sprinkled with the green and red spots the seaweeds were creating.

_“Oh, Ocean, beautiful, mysterious Ocean, wrap me up in foam, I am your betrothed.”_

 

It seemed like the ocean could hear him, providing him each day with everything Ys could need. The fishers never came back with empty nets, every day the city was alight with the dazzling lights of never ending feasts and humming to the sound of the strings of hundreds of musicians. 

However on the continent of his father, the King, the city of the young Prince was despised for its debauchery and excesses, but on the island the people lived by the beliefs of the Old Religion, celebrating each moon with dance and wine, and each day with joy and song.

Unfortunately, having heard of the unfavourable reputation of the city, the King sent a priest to evangelize Ys and cleanse it of its sins. Prince Viktor had already met Father Georgi as a young boy. At that time Father Georgi was in love with a lady of the King’s court, a woman with auburn hair and a sly smile. He turned his back on love altogether when she rejected him and he entered into The Orders, his heart full of rancour. 

If Viktor didn’t like him as a kid, he despised him as an adult. After years spent in The Orders the priest was even more intransigent and bitter. He had hardly arrived into the town when he immediately ordered the construction of a church to spread the gospel to Ys. He wanted it to be the most important building of the city, surpassing in height and ostentation every other, even the princely castle. He mercilessly cancelled the numerous parties which used to set the rhythm life for the citizens of Ys. The musicians became masons, the dancers became sculptors and the flowers started to wilt. 

The Prince wouldn’t go on to the shore anymore, he felt like a prisoner in the very city he held so close to his heart but he refused to pass the gates, even for a few hours. He feared, maybe slightly irrationally, that the priest would use that time to pervert the spirits of all the inhabitants of Ys.

He understood that he couldn’t oppose the priest; no action could be taken directly against the King’s will.

 

\--------------------------

 

In the middle of a summer night way too silent to his taste, Viktor struggled to even close his eyes. The windows were wide open and let the smell of salt and freshly mowed grass in his room. He was trying to focus on the slow swing of his curtains to lull himself to sleep when the sound of his dog barking in the gardens caught his attention. 

It was unusual of him, especially at the late hour. Wearily, Viktor went out to retrieve his companion but as soon as his dog saw him he started running towards the forest without turning back to look at him even once. Viktor followed him, his heart beating quicker from the effort of running and of the unexplainable fear of what could possibly happen to his beloved animal alone in the woods.

He finally reached a clearing, stopping. He hadn’t left his castle in a while and after this unexpected race his heart was pounding loudly in his chest and he had trouble catching his breath. However, it was the surprise of seeing his dog joyfully rolling on his back, a stranger squatting over him and stroking his belly enthusiastically, rather than his lack of fitness that made him stand still.

The man was covered in roses, flowers adorning him from the crown in his blond hair to the bottom of his cape, sown with what seemed to be golden strings. He turned to Viktor, taking in his presence and looked up at him through his long dark eyelashes. 

“I’m much more of a cat person than a dog person but yours is cute.” The man smiled before adding: “And very intelligent, he brought you here in less time than I expected.”  
“What’s your name? And, may I know why I’m here?” Viktor asked, inching closer to the man. He thought he’d struggle to sound as calm as possible considering the circumstances, but surprisingly enough found himself at ease. 

“Names are not important to us, but Christians do seem to like those. They call their children the name of their Saints,” as he was talking, strange floating lights and new intruders with childlike faces joined him, slowly rising and circling the small opening they both stood in. “Or even Christian or Christophe, it’s almost as if they were afraid of forgetting what they are supposed to believe in!” 

He didn’t pay any attention to the floating creatures, wandering between circles formed by what looked like small mushrooms and carefully avoided stepping on the colorful flowers emerging from the grass. Viktor had heard of flowers blooming late in the afternoon and lasting until the morning but never witnessed it first hand. He wasn’t really a regular of taking nocturnal walks in the woods. The woman who had told him about these flowers had come from a country far away where they were called ‘Beauties of Night’.  
This didn’t disturb the mysterious crowned man, and he continued talking.

“I reign upon all the spirits of the meadow and flowers,” as he said these words he looked up at the lights, finally acknowledging their presence. Realisation slowly dawned upon Viktor that these were the spirits. 

“We live off dance and song and your new priest is trying to take all joy away from your subjects, your people. We need your help to make him leave. The King of the Ocean feels very close to your city and would be delighted to help you, I think he may have a soft spot for you, but unfortunately the seawalls keep him apart from your city.”

Viktor’s eyes widened, and he struggled to school his expression as he tried to process what felt like vital information. The importance of what Viktor had heard before hit him, the involvement of the priest. However, more importantly the news about the King of the Ocean made him feel like he’d been bestowed with an incredible treasure. It was almost life-changing news for him even as the man in front of him threw it into the conversation with nonchalance that almost offended him. 

“So, he does exist?” Viktor asked, fiddling with the golden key hanging around his neck.

“Oh, sweet prince, of course he does! I think he misses you… and your voice.” He smiled once again, and, rearranging his crown of gold and flowers, turned his attention to a group of spirits standing to his right. They looked weak in appearance, their spark flickering.

“When people don’t believe in God, Christians build more churches. When people don’t believe in us we crumble and eventually die.”

His eyes travelled then slowly to the entirety of his court and their mournful expressions, his eyes taking on a hardness that wasn’t previously present.  
“But we know you believe in us. You’ve been a dear friend of the Old Religion since you were a kid, let us help you fight the gangrene invading your garden, let us cast this priest out of here,” every word drew him closer to Viktor, until he was clasping Viktor’s hands as if in prayer.

It was true, Viktor had always favored the fierce lights of the old beliefs to the weak candles of this new religion which gained everyday more followers. He couldn’t understand the point of their precepts, only seeing fear and ignorance as the tools of their establishment.

Consequently, Viktor was most eager to help him and nodded without the slightest sign of hesitation. “What can I do?”

“Darling, as I told you, we just need humans to believe in us. It is the source of all our powers. Gift us your hair and tomorrow the priest will be gone.”

He loved his hair, it flowed behind him and fell lightly on his shoulders, it got caught in the breeze on the rare days he hadn’t to braid it for public apparitions and earned him endless praise from the most elegant members of the court. But he would choose freedom over vanity any time. Once again, he nodded. 

The Spirit King smiled at him softly, and leaning forward, lightly kissed Viktor’s forehead whispering: 

“Sleep well, dear Prince”.

 

_________________________

 

The next morning, Viktor woke up in his own bed, his dog curled up in his arms with rose petals still stuck to his fur. He got up, feeling lighter than he had the previous day. Shaking his head softly several times, he lifted his hand to touch his bangs gingerly; They barely grazed his eyebrows now. 

He wondered how long it would take for him to get used to the emptiness behind him, or if he would even care enough to let his hair grow again. He wasn’t as concerned by his appearance as he used to be. He just felt tired at the perspective of having to explain this unexpected disappearance to everyone. 

Thinking about a future distant enough where his long hair would brush the small of his back again tired him.

He walked towards the window and, as he gazed upon the city, his eyes landed on the hideous church. Its main facade was covered in statues of saints, looking down at the bystanders with contempt and dominated by a plethora of gargoyles vomiting dirty rain from their maws full of sharp teeth. Not fully constructed, yet, it still dominated the whole city. 

Or at least that had been the case the day before. Now an even higher tower dominated the half-built steeple. 

He had wondered if the work of the spirits would be visible from the top of his castle, and the spirits didn’t disappoint. Delicately sculpted, looking like a tree made of marble and as high as two churches, the fairies tower shamed the other edifice by its mere existence, projecting a shade on the roof of the religious building, provided by the soft eastern light that the morning sun was shedding. 

It was not to everyone’s taste of course. The citizens faithful to the Old religion were delighted but the others feared for their souls. 

The same afternoon, the priest left the city, cursing the houses, dooming the bronze gates and everything Viktor loved. The King disapproved and, oh, Viktor couldn’t care less! The parties would be back soon in town and it was all that actually mattered. 

He needed those, he needed to keep his mind busy, to get the celebrations ready, to dance until he would forget his own name, he had to talk, chatter, discover new people and new stories. There needed to be constant change in his court. Being surprised every day by a new face or a new story; This was what kept him wanting to wake up, and it couldn’t stop being what put his life in movement.

Until it did.

 

\-----------------

 

He knows every citizen of his golden city now, and the ocean doesn’t throw strangers at him as much as it used to. Parties are boring and his heart feels empty. Having too much time on his hands allows him to think, worse, it _forces_ him to think. He thinks and he thinks and he thinks- About his loneliness, about not feeling understood, about the way he doesn’t know where his life is going and whether there is a point to it. Can he somehow achieve happiness? Does he even want to be happy? 

Of course everything isn’t gloom all the time but when he feels alone all his doubts come back to haunt him, to eat away at him... And feeling alone isn’t a rare occurrence for him. He hates feeling this way but eventually this hate wears off too. 

Only numbness remains.

So to counter this he tries to throw bigger parties, make each evening more memorable than the last one. Trying his best to please his guests, he displays the eccentricity they expect of him and plasters a forced smile on his face, hoping it will bring a genuine one to others. But he feels tired all the time. He licks his lips, still deep in thought.

He hasn’t seen the ocean in ages. 

His dog had died, and he’s not even sure how long ago that was; His notion of time has become unclear these days and the weeks succeed each other into a shapeless mess. Who would come with him to play with the waves? He doesn’t really have friends anyway, not anymore, he has acquaintances at best. He’s alone. But that’s okay.

Another party. 

 

He feels so weary, he gains his throne and sits on it waving at the audience. There’s now no need to leave it, there’s now no need to earn it. He won’t inherit the kingdom when the King dies. He was given this city to keep him out of the picture, only his blood gave him rights upon these walls. He just has to stand still on this golden chair and look handsome. 

He _has_ been told he’s pretty good at it.

The weather is terrible outside, a violent storm had started an hour ago and drums relentlessly against the celebration hall’s roof. The courtesans don’t care, they are having fun dancing around and, as much as Viktor is glad for them, he can’t help but feel his heart sink at the perspective of reliving this masquerade over and over again. Faking smiles. Being pretty. Pleasing strangers. Being a doll isn’t hard, he has had a lot of practice, but it doesn’t mean he enjoys it. Or at least not as much as he once did. 

Being the center of the attention- being worshipped- was fun once upon a time. It fed the ego of a child with matchless efficiency. But he grew up, and being a child wasn’t really an option anymore. He would now gladly remove himself from all these prying gazes.

Maybe he could try to sneak out before the end of the night?

He snaps out of his thoughts when suddenly a stranger enters the banquet from the main doors of the room, always open for any unexpected guests. Viktor had never tried to prevent anyone from joining his public parties anyway.

He looks _radiant_ , moving as gracefully as the ocean water, yet, he seems to carry himself with more strength than anyone could expect from a man that lithe. He has a delicate face with sharp eyes and when those eyes catch his, he stops breathing for few seconds. The first thing Viktor thinks is that, even if he could sneak out before the end of the night, he wouldn’t do it without this man at his side. 

A smirk appears on the man’s face, and Viktor notes a glint in his eyes. He’s still standing at the edge of the ballroom his eyes on Viktor. But then he moves, reaching the table laden with food and drink in few strides and grabs the nearest glass to him, drinking swiftly. Viktor doesn’t even pretend to not be sneaking glances at this figure.  
The stranger doesn’t try to be discreet or wait until the end of the current song, he just winks in the direction of the throne and unapologetically heads for the centre of the room, rolling his hips in a way that could kill a man.

Then he starts dancing and it’s as if Viktor can’t look away. Not that he has any will to do so anyway. He feels more awake than he has in ages and grips his armrests tighter. He doesn’t want to get involved just yet, he wants to admire this man’s movements a bit more, he wants to let him finish his dance. 

Finally, not willing to wait anymore and hearing the end of the song approaching, he rises from his throne, trying to keep his gait steady as he approaches the beautiful stranger, the music in the background dying down. He breathes in, calming his nerves, before finally breathing out:

“May I have this next dance?” 

The man looks up at him, his previous steely expression softening. His eyes hold an easy familiarity, as if he has known Viktor for ages. 

“I thought you would never ask,” he answers, offering him his arm. 

“May I know your name?” Viktor asks, linking their fingers together to initiate the waltz.

“Oh,” he laughs, “Names are not really important, but you can call me Yuuri if you wish.”

With the storm still raging on outside, they share a few dances. The warm and well-lit ballroom making it so easy to feel safe. Lighting strikes outside, followed by a loud crash and Yuuri stiffens dropping their hands and putting a end to their dance. The couples around them continue to spin. Viktor doesn’t notice, his eyes still on Yuuri, tracing his features in the soft light. Yuuri tilts his head back to stare at ceiling, a pensive expression on his face.

“Don’t be afraid, the buildings are resistant here.” Viktor says, running his hand down Yuuri’s arm reassuringly. He interprets Yuuri’s reaction as fear, his mind so caught up in the adrenaline that was pulsing through his body and the ghost touch of Yuuri’s hand in his that he can’t really see what else in the thunder would justify an interruption. 

“I’m not. Actually, I would love to get some fresh air, would you care to go outside with me? We could check the seawalls together?”

The demand is surprising and considering it over, Viktor doesn’t feel like he has much to lose by following his unexpected guest outside. Even in the middle of a midsummer storm, at worst they would get soaked. Viktor’s running over these options in his mind when with no other warning, Yuuri leaves his side to walk towards the door. He stops only to look at Viktor over his shoulder, as if he wants to make sure that Viktor is still following him. 

And, of course, he does.

 

They sneak out of the building together with the banquet still in full swing. Viktor smiles to himself as he realises he kept the promise he made to himself, a small thing but important nonetheless: He didn’t leave the party without his pretty stranger, without Yuuri. 

They don’t talk much as they walk down the path towards the ocean. The rain drops falling in his eyes blur his vision and in no time their clothes are soaked but Viktor can’t care less. The freshness of the water, contrasting with his skin heated by the exercise and the warmth of the castle, is a relief. It makes him breathe quicker and he can hear the beating of his own heart in his chest become louder and for a second, without even thinking about it, he smiles. 

His cheeks are wet but he is glad he can’t taste salt in these drops of rain. Yuuri is walking quickly, as if he knows exactly where he wants to go and Viktor follows him not bothering to question it. He’s outside, in the middle of a storm, with a charming young man whose eyes are imploring and mysterious, constantly drawing him in. He doesn’t want this to end, he doesn’t want the feelings flourishing in him to stop. He’s so afraid that the man leading him to the edge of the town will disappear in a blink of an eye, swallowed by the clouds, and that the new rhythm pounding through his veins will dissipate. This feeling of being alive will disappear and the numbness he was so used to will return. He swallows.

He must have seemed concerned because Yuuri turns to him, frowning softly. 

“You look sad,” he observes, tilting his head to the side.

“I haven’t felt happy for a while now,” Viktor answers, surprised by his own honesty. 

They reach the gates of the city and Viktor stops their walk to tug them behind the shelter of the walls against the strong wind. He pulls Yuuri closer hoping that this will allow the conversation to continue more smoothly. The rain hits the pavement with a loud pitter patter and waves crash against the stones but they are now standing close enough to be able to hear each other over the storm.

“What used to make you happy?”Yuuri asks, his eyes searching his expression.

“The ocean,” he answers with no hesitation. 

After all it was the ocean, that brought him all he had; that separated him from all the wars he saw on the continent ruled by his father; the ocean that kept him happy for years.  
“It used to surprise me a lot, to bring me presents I didn’t even know I wanted. I wonder what he could still do to surprise me.” Viktor looked away, not sure about where he should focus his attention, he couldn’t look Yuuri in the eye anymore for some reason. Should he look towards his castle? To the clouds trying to blind him with their tears? Or to the gate next to him against which he could hear the waves smash with an increasing intensity. 

“I feel like it abandoned me.”

Yuuri sighs softly, and when he starts speaking his voice is quiet: “Or maybe you abandoned him first, maybe he’s tired of sending you things, maybe he would like to have you by his side. Maybe he wants you to reach for him.” 

He stops talking, smiling fondly and reaches for Viktor’s cheek, Viktor’s attention zeroing in on that single point. Yuuri could probably see his face turn pink under his touch, despite the relative darkness surrounding them.

“You don’t walk on the shore as much as you used to.” Yuuri whispers, looking a bit melancholic. “I missed you… and your dog too…” 

As Yuuri continues talking realisation starts to dawn upon him. Viktor starts to understand why his stranger felt so familiar, just as Yuuri’s fingers close up gently on the golden key and with a deep voice, he sings softly: 

_“Human, beautiful human, you are my betrothed, I gave you dances, I gave you sailors I gave you gold, now give yourself to me.”_

He doesn’t stop to think.

“I do.”

The key turns, opening the gates, to finally let the ocean in and the raging storm drowns the city.

**Author's Note:**

> [Eve](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Evermoriver/pseuds/Evermoriver) is the best beta ever like..she made it look like english can you believe it?? Send her flowers and butterfly kisses
> 
> Did you know Viktor’s tears are the secret of his youth?
> 
> Ocean cryptids are gr8
> 
> Buffy is my lord and savior and ["Close your Eyes"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i7Q80e487SU) is what I was listening to for the last scene
> 
> if you want to check out [my tumblr](http://salanayuniasis.tumblr.com/) !
> 
> Eve also drew an amazing [fanart](http://evermoredeath.tumblr.com/post/162122767026/evermoriver-human-beautiful-human-you-are) for this fic <3
> 
> And Lambie a perfect [moodboard](http://father-nikiforov.tumblr.com/post/161995758521/ocean-beautiful-selfish-ocean-wrap-me-up-in)


End file.
